The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1887-10-09

n!ln uelfef IMAM 40 my own Ire. III MIN
are conferred all my hopes. Life without
power ON earth could induce me to part with
him. For him shall my prayers ascend
night and day; for him | mean to toll; for
him mean to fight, and for him mean to
die, if need bel"
Virgil's scathing arraignment of her I'M
cle'S inconsistencies did not in the least in
cense Mrs. Gresham, as the reader might
imagine; but, ON the contrary, the boys
face and manner impressed her deeply.
lit is a rare thing to find boy of your
age with so noble and self-sacrifcing a
spirit as you manifest, " said the lady, grasp
ing the youths hand "MoSt young men
when placed in your position are only too
glad to get rid of their little brothers and
sisters. As you are an exception, however,
| will not ask you to part with Milton, to
whom you are so deeply attached, although
| could almost idolize the dear little
fellow. If | were TO offer you assistance,
you would doubtless feel hurt and think
did it in condescending manner. There
fore, shall not wound your proud young
spirit. But, Virgil, if greater misfortunes
should come upon you; if you should fail to
find friends or employment in Richmond,
which place, learn. you propose to make
your home; If sickness should befall you ;
or, if you should weary in your sef-im-
Adelaide Gresham, who will render you any
assistance in her power My young friend,
| feel great interest in you. If you should
fail to get into business in Richmond, come
to Baltimore, and you shall have one of the
best positions in my husbands store, which
is one of the largest in the city. Here is
my card; here is my husbands also"
Virgil took the two bits of paSteboard,
and, after bowling and thanking her for her
kind words tAut tha cards i'm his vast
pocket.
Here DR.. Douglas, pale with rage, ap-
preached his niece, and, in voice that was
far from pleasant, said:
Adelaide Gresham, what do you meant
After coming all the way from Baltimore,
and bringing me here TO intercede for you,
are you silly enough to be thwarted in your
purpose because OF what that msolent up
start has saids Mrs. Paine alone has the
right to say whether you can have her child
or not. What do you say, madam! Shall
my niece take the childn'
MY son has nobly defended me, sir, re-
piled Mrs Paine, coolly. my boys are all
| have in the world, and were l separated
from either of them, my life would be de-
void Of all hope or happiness"
Then you refuse to part with the boy9'
81 do, sirn
VERY we'll, madam" Then turning to
his niece he said coolly: Come, Adelaide
Gresham, if you can leave your charming
youth. | have to funeralize Col. Barbour's
baby at o'clock, and it is already half past
three"
And with these words the D. D bowed
coldly, and, with Mrs. Gresham, departed.
II Just tell you what you can talk to
him, can't you, brother?' exclaimed Milton,
looking proudly up in Virgil's face
II fear it was wrong in me to speak to
DIR nnnplaS | did hIit | pOnl1n1f ha1va ~
He spoke so unfeelingly. You wouldn't
leave your brother, would your
Leave my brother" said the little fell
low, rubbing his cheek against Virgirs.
"No, indeed; that / wouldn'tSnot
for everybody and everything in the
world, cause you are the best
big brother in-in--the whole United
States. You never speak cross to me or
slap me, or call me troublesome chap like
that mean old Rufus Beardsley does his lit
tie brother. You love to take me with you
everywhere you go. and no matter how
tired or sleepy you feel at night, you will
tell me tales and talk to me till | go to
Sleep
A smile fitted over Mrs. Paines sad face
as she listened to the conversation between
her boys-one so noble, so handsome in his
young manhood; the other so innocent,
50 beautiful in his childhood. Although her
wealth had been swept away, the mother
felt that, with two such boys, she was yet
rich.
Mother, it is beautiful afternoon, said
Virgil. would you not like to walk out
with Milton and myself, and take parting
glimpse of the dear old place! We shall
have no time after to-day"
Yes; she would take farewell look at the
dear old place. Do we not take a parting
glance at a loved face ere we turn away from
it forever.
Virgil wrapped shawl around his moth
ers shoulders and, gently drawing her arm
within his own, led her out
1t was clear, lovely afternoon in De-
cember, although sadness pervaded every
thing about them. As they passed the negro
quarters, now closed and tenantless, Virgil
fancied he could hear the negroes as in days
gone by, singing and shouting around the
cabin doors. As they paused now and then
beside an old, familiar spring, around
which lay masses of dead ferns and forest
leaves, some incident of his happy past
would recur to him with all the vividness of
reality.
Nearly a mile from the house, on the
principal avenue, stood the family burying-
ground, which was inclosed by high brick
wall 1t was a lovely spot, with its mag
nolia and arbor-vitR trees, its evergreen
shrubbery, its carpet of ivy and periwinkle,
and its quaint English tablets on which was
engraven below each name an appropriate
passage from the Bible.
Beside the newly made grave of Mr..
Paine rested the remains of Virgil's sister,
Beulah, who, in her beauty and purity, had
fallen asleep ere the shadow of evil had
fallen upon her home.
~ am the resurrection and the life, u saith
the Lord; "he that beleveth in me, though
he We're dead, yet shall he live; and whose
ever hveth and believeth in me shall never
die"
A despairing look came over Mrs. Paines
face as She repeated these words, which were
carved on her daughters tomb
ION, Virgil" she said, ''those words were
so sweet to me when Beulah died; but no
comfort do they hold for mo now for my
poor Frank took his own life, aud thus cut
himself off forever from tle mercy of God
1t is SO sadl l could bear with resignation
my cross, however heavy, if at the end of
life, | were sure of meeting your father
in heaven"
Gently, lovingly Virgil led his mother to
a seat, and, with her head pillowed upon his
breast, the heart-broken woman gave way
to violent fit Of weeping.
Come, mother, let us return to the
house, said Virgil, at length. 1T is grow
ing late and chilly, and, besides, it only
augments your grief to remain here.
Come, Milton"
The lad, who was strewing his fathers
grave with ivy-leaves, Immediately joined
them, and then the trio wended their way